


Enrapturing tales of far off lands

by SandmanUlix



Category: Historical Fiction
Genre: Colonialism, F/M, Murder, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 11:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20339467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandmanUlix/pseuds/SandmanUlix
Summary: Otto Krupp is man of many talents and gifts, common sense however was never one of them. When the great officers life is taken by an assassins blade, the government fears mutiny to be close at hand. Two investigators are ordered to find the culprit, restore the peace and teach the impudent Qing their place. Tensions fly high and one small misstep might spell disaster for Shanghai and by proxy the entire east.





	Enrapturing tales of far off lands

Shanghai 1870 The last months of spring

Through the streets of the conquered city strolls a young German officer. This strapping young gentleman is referred to as Otto by his associates and as Sir or lord by his subordinates and the locals who know not many words in German. But matters of class do not influence our intrepid young soldier, as to him class distinguishes only wealth and not character, an opinion of his which often changes depending on the situation. And one he expresses only because he himself is a member of the younger generation of Junkers who clawed their way from the smokestacks of the industrial revolution to cave put a piece of the Status quo which they wished to hold on to. Hard working, ambitious and a very uncompromising individual when it comes to matters of race or nationality, such qualities had long paved the way for his future in the military and his experiences in the last few conflicts served only to solidify them. Otto holds the Qing in contempt, hates the French with a burning passion and regards all others with cold indifference. It is not as if he wants all other peoples killed, far from it. He simply wants them to be kept where they belong, under the heel of his Kaisers’ (and by proxy the Junkers) boot.

Recently he had been assigned to manage the strategically important port town of Shanghai in consideration for his impressive leadership and management capabilities during the last war with the Qing dynasty. There he had led the predominantly Christian minorities inhabiting cities like Nanjing and the like into large scale militias with which he gloriously charged upon the Chinese combatant’s fortifications, breaking their lines and giving his allies an opportunity to press the cracks in the defenses. The moment that the ink on the papers assigning him as governor had dried he had gone to work immediately, turning the port from a moderately prosperous trade hub to a multicultural and multilingual center of education, commerce and especially war.

He goes home to his grand estate where he enjoys one of the luxuries this life has afforded him. Knowledge and women. Well, mostly for matters of housekeeping and the occasional dance, and not women of high caliber but women nonetheless. He reminisces of his first few days in the port, when he had still been young and foolish, high off his first military victory. His choices had been dubbed as and still were seen as more than a little “odd”. 

Upon his arrival into the port, officer Krupp had announced that in order to help stimulate the economy and cut down on the over population, each family would be obliged to give a daughter of good breeding to be renamed and groomed for possible courting from European officials back home. Some resisted, then they disappeared and then none did. Many had passed the exams and those that had stayed behind stayed out of loyalty, or because of lacking in one field or the other. He enjoyed quite a bit of political power here now, because of that as surprisingly women made for great enforcers and informants, especially when it came to matters of European interests, something they had likely cultivated long ago. The German East India Company had focused its efforts mostly in the recently conquered Hainan and Shanghai regions. As such young officer Krupp had the pleasure of levying taxes and tariffs upon the company resulting in vast sums of this payment being made by “alternate” means, usually guns or artillery from back home. It was through such methods of negotiation that Shanghai and it’s armies had reached the top spot as the largest colonial force in all the Far eastern territories. His pride and joy though were not the great army he had recruited from the local manpower but the many ships whose construction he had commissioned. Mostly transports with a few warships, this navy reached a force of 40 total combat ready ships with an additional 30 commerce ships.

The reason for the reassessment of the local military capabilities were the twofold threats that the colony experienced currently, one from the French and their armies stationed in Indochina and the second being the Russians who were eager to claim any miniscule amount of colonial prestige they could to save face from their loses to the Japanese. Preparation was a necessity in such times of risk and uncertainty. 

He had been checking the equipment at his estate all early morning, making sure everything was in order and in general simply preparing for their current endeavor against the Indo-French forces. 

He was now walking down the red carpet of a well-lit corridor awash in bright light emanating from the new electric appliances, he walked through and made a turn leading into the library where he planned to deposit his plans and a very important letter he had been penning all of last month. He motioned to open the mahogany wood door of the library when he was stopped by one of the servants, he did not however recognize which. 

“My lord, Xi Lao has requested your highnesses presence in the west wing.” He said as he kept his head down in humility as was fitting for one of his rank.

“Xi Lao? That would be the cook right? Well what does he want now? It better not be about the pensions. I am currently in the middle of something.” He said with contempt at being kept from his work by these buffoons.

“I know not lord, he said it was something about supplies.” He scoffed in anger as he made his way to the west wing planning to give that cocky Qing cook a piece of his mind, and possibly his fist.

He walked down the narrow and dark corridor which led to the kitchen, the men did not often come here so it was left in a state of partial disrepair. It had little to no lighting with the primary aid to one’s vision coming from the better lit portion of the previous passage, the curtains were a disheveled mess although it would be a sin to call them curtains as they were simply colored blankets tossed on whatever corner had the most damaged wallpaper, which itself was a very drab beige that in the dim light was just as dark as everything else, even the red carpet looked more a dull black.

The smell of wood, paper or other construction materials lingered heavily on every room in the house but especially here. Odd since it was the first room that had been finished. Goes to show the incompetency of the eastern barbarians, to not even finish a house correctly.

He felt that he had been walking for hours on end and every turn he took just led him into the same corridor. He was beginning to grow weary when he heard a horrid creaking noise, which slid along his back like nails on a blackboard. He turned around to see the cause only for the lighting to completely turn off as if by magic. He felt his breath hitch as the creaking noise stopped, his entire body seizing up and even his pulse quickening to the sudden danger. His heart beat faster in the total silence and it felt like the noise might rupture his ears. He tried to back way in order to escape into the nearest hallway but he tripped on a piece of wood furniture he could not identify breaking it as he landed on his back. He had the breath knocked out of him, and as he tried to regain his bearings he heard a rush of footsteps. He looked up in horror to see a hooded silhouette holding something in their hand. Even in the total darkness he could see the gleeful metallic gleaming which identified it as a blade. He had not time to react as the blade was brought down in one fell thrust. He wanted to scream or resist but he could not, and in this pitch black darkness he doubted anyone would hear him. The words were choked out of him as the blade bit into his chest, ripping through flesh and bumping against bone before planting itself so deep that it grazed the back of his lungs. Blood welled up in his chest and in his throat as he choked on it. The figure was motionless for a long while before it suddenly disappeared the same way it came, with not a word said, almost as if nothing had happened. Not even a few minutes passed and the lights came on again. By this time blood stained the carpet a deep crimson color and the soul of one Otto Leopold Heinrich Krupp leaves his body, to travel to its final resting place.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a one shot that I wish to continue in the future.


End file.
